


operation: nip slip

by winryrockbae



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Pining victor, Victor's POV, god victor is so thirsty, mari needs more appreciation, no beta we die like men, that one kid from mean girls vc: it only counts if you see nipple, victor just wants to see some nipple, victor nikiforov's yuuri fetish, yuuri is just trying to be a good boy and victor is drooling, yuuri is lowkey enjoying all the attention but he doesn't know how to express
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winryrockbae/pseuds/winryrockbae
Summary: They spent time changing in locker rooms and soaking in the onsen, but did Yuuri always have his back to Victor? Was it on purpose or was Victor just forgetting what the front of Yuuri looked like? No, that wasn’t something he would forget. But, he must have. He was disappointed in himself for forgetting to remember a detail like that.OR: Victor is wondering why he's never seen Yuuri's chest and it's driving him up a wall.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 177





	operation: nip slip

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this as a total self projection fic because I did nearly the exact same thing as Yuuri three years ago? Yes.  
> Do I regret it? No.  
> Pierced!Yuuri is is now my brand thanks for coming to my ted talk.

“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice held only the slightest slur. “I’ll be right back. I wanna do something.” 

“What? Where are you going? Hey!” His roommate turned with a hamburger gripped tightly in his fingers, fries sticking out of his mouth at strange angles. Dark eyes framed by cat liner and accented with gold eyeshadow widened as he rushed after Yuuri, who had already disappeared into the shop lit up by the neon sign. 

▲▽▲

The resounding clap of Victor’s palms coming together brought Yuuri spiraling back down to earth, his own insecurities building and building in his mind until he could hardly land a single jump. His practice had started off well enough, but it didn’t take long for the sinking feeling in his stomach to twist his gut into an anxious, unbearable mess. Victor had practically seen it happening, maybe he was too inexperienced as a coach, or maybe he was curious to see if Yuuri worked himself out of it- but after fifteen minutes of flubbed jumps he knew it was time to call it a day.

“Victor, let me try it one-” 

“Yuuri, that’s it for today. Let’s head back to the hot springs.” Victor’s tone, although light, left no room for argument as Yuuri’s shoulders slumped and he skated towards the boards. He stopped right in front of Victor and with a few words uttered under his breath in frustrated Japanese, Yuuri bent down to clean the ice from his blades. The nape of his neck shone with exertion, the black athletic shirt hugging his muscled shoulders that flexed with his movement had Victor swallowing, wishing he could bend at the waist and press his lips to that little patch of exposed skin. 

_Get it together, Nikiforov._

Victor scolded himself, physically shaking away the desire like a dog shaking off water before he led his student back to the onsen. He had yet to find a balance between critical and supportive and he chose instead to focus on Yuuri’s step sequences on the walk home. There really wasn’t anyone that could move to the music like he could, though he must be tired of hearing that. Or, Victor noted the tips of Yuuri’s ears had turned pink as the younger tried to hide behind his glasses, maybe he hadn’t. 

His compliments continued through the main room, in the showers he sprinkled in some advice for landing the jumps better and in an unspoken agreement all talk of the day’s practice stopped as the pair stepped into the onsen where Yuuri sunk quickly into the water. It was nice to see the tension melting from his student’s limbs, the way he nearly turned to jelly in the spring. It took Victor a bit longer to adjust to the heat and immerse himself in the onsen, though he couldn’t deny how good the warmth felt. It was then that Victor finally quieted, sitting himself at the opposite side of the pool. He’d noticed a few things about Yuuri, in the time that he had been here. Yuuri overthought things, he planned a lot of his actions carefully in advance and he was quiet, polite. Nothing like the man that Victor had met at Sochi. Of course, he wasn’t complaining. He could still see the spark of Eros, flickering within Yuuri at any given moment. Especially on the rare occasion where his confidence outweighed his anxiety. 

“Victor?” 

_Oh, shit._ Yuuri had been speaking to him. He blinked. “Hm?” 

“You were quiet.” 

“Just thinking.” 

“It’s no good to be in your own head all the time,” Yuuri mused. He settled with his forearms resting on the edge of the pool, muscular back turned towards Victor. He huffed out a tired laugh, cheek resting on his folded arms. “I would know.” 

“You’re doing much better,” Victor assured him. 

“Mm, thanks.” Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, cheeks pink from the heat of the onsen as he placed a white towel on top of his head. “Must be something my coach is doing.” 

“You’re lucky to have such a coach then!” Victor could practically feel his heart swell up at the compliment placed upon him. He was suddenly up and out of the onsen, crouching before Yuuri with no regard to either’s nakedness. Hands clasped in hands, blue eyes locked on Yuuri’s features. “Do you know why I was drawn to you, Yuuri?” 

“No?” The uncertainty in Yuuri’s voice nearly broke Victor’s heart, but he tugged the shorter skater out of the water anyway. A noise of protest turned to louder protests as Victor stretched one of Yuuri’s legs out, his chest pressed against that strong back. If he wasn’t so focused on the skating talk, there would be a pretty obvious reaction to their closeness just a little lower. 

“It’s because of how you move to the music.” Victor started, his chin perched on the warm skin of Yuuri’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the side of Yuuri’s face. 

Yuuri was sputtering, red from his ears to his toes, finding that accepting a compliment while being literally held by his Idol was a little too much. “T-Thank you.” He managed, using the distraction of the crowd gathering near the door to wrap a towel around his shoulders and slip back inside. 

Maybe Victor had pushed a bit too much, he thought as he looked at Yuuri’s closed door before disappearing into his own room. He couldn’t help that he wanted to touch Yuuri. His strong thighs, chiseled abs, all of the power in his lithe frame that burst out of him in the most graceful of ways while he was feeling the music. His round butt and his… pink… nipples? 

Victor’s eyebrows scrunched in thought, searching through recent memory. He couldn’t remember what Yuuri’s chest looked like, despite having seen the other man naked several times. In Sochi, he’d stripped down to nothing but a tank top, his boxers and a pair of socks before he was finally wrangled by his coach and put to bed. He must have continued his strip show on the way out the door, Victor found the black tank discarded by the elevators and (he was NOT ashamed to admit) he had kept it for months. Like Cinderella’s slipper. There was nothing special about it, plain black, generic brand, but it was Yuuri’s. Victor had been slightly cross when he returned home one day to find that Makka had chewed it up. 

They spent time changing in locker rooms and soaking in the onsen, but did Yuuri _always_ have his back to Victor? Was it on purpose or was Victor just forgetting what the front of Yuuri looked like? No, that wasn’t something he would forget. But, he must have. He was disappointed in himself for forgetting to remember a detail like that. 

▲▽▲

The next day, Victor kept a close eye on Yuuri. His attentiveness seemed to be slightly unnerving to the younger male, but if it was bothering him he said nothing as he changed in the locker room (his back to Victor) only turning around while he wiped his face with a towel that when held reached his belly button. Their nightly soak in the onsen went the same, Yuuri remained under the water or resting against the edge of the pool. Victor silently cursed himself for not looking down while he was flexing with Yuuri the previous evening. 

Next came dinner, Victor insisting that Yuuri join him in wearing one of the onsen’s yukatas. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, as he allowed his to practically fall off his frame, but Yuuri kept his on properly and securely. Only once did it start to slip open while Yuuri rolled on the floor with Makka, a sight that had Victor nearly on the verge of tears from how goddamn _wholesome_ it was. Yuuri sat up, robe slipping and Victor swallowed, trying to remain inconspicuous as he allowed his gaze to travel from Yuuri’s neck to his collarbones, to the dip between his pecs - before Yuuri was straightening the garment and flopping onto his stomach to play with Makka’s ears. Victor could have sworn out of the corner of his eye he caught Mari tugging the collar of her own shirt as a signal to Yuuri. 

_Oh?_ Now his curiosity was truly peaked. 

The next week went on with much of the same, Victor acutely aware that he had never seen Yuuri’s bare chest and wondering why. Yuuri was no stranger to nakedness, he grew up in an onsen. And his body was sculpted, lithe, strong, _perfect_. 

It was never bare. It was always Yuuri’s back, Yuuri in a tank top (tight fitting, but still a tank top) or Yuuri holding something in front of himself. It was driving Victor up a metaphorical wall. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, he reasoned with himself. Maybe it was all a coincidence, though Yuuri’s movements seemed too calculated and precise to be something he did without thinking. A strange habit, one that was eating away at Victor and consuming his thoughts whenever he had a spare moment to think about them. Maybe it was a sign of how dull his life was, that he was so focused on this tiny, menial, _meaningless_ thing. 

“Yuuri, look at me.” Victor said suddenly after practice in the locker room one evening. Yuuri was shirtless, naked actually, no towel in his hands to wipe his face or shirt to tug on. 

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder. 

“Turn around.” 

“I’m naked,” Yuuri said flatly. But he padded forward, finding a pair of clean boxer briefs and pulling them on. Any other day, Victor might have snuck an elongated peek, but he was on a mission. Yuuri turned, crossing his arms. “What?” 

From what Victor could see, Yuuri’s chest was as perfect as the rest of him. He hadn’t been _hoping_ to see a scar or a mark, but it would have been an explanation. He blinked, eyes narrowing as if to see through Yuuri’s crossed arms. “What?” 

“You asked me to turn around. What for?” Yuuri repeated patiently, head canted to the side. 

“You did well today,” Victor said. “I’m proud of you.” 

Yuuri flushed then, arms uncrossing, though his elbows stayed glued to his pecs as he buried his face in his hands before turning around. “Thank you,” he muttered. 

It was at that moment that Victor Nikiforov snapped. Not in a frightening, angry way, but more in a he needed to touch this man and now way. Two long strides carried him across the locker room, gloved hands gripping Yuuri’s shoulders before he turned him around, using the momentum to grip his wrists and pull his face from his hands. He was surprised at the stiffness in Yuuri’s elbows, a reluctance to lower his arms even when taken by surprise. The guilt hit him then, releasing Yuuri’s wrists to pull him into a hug, his chin resting on top of those inky black locks. He wished he’d had the foresight to remove his gloves so he could feel Yuuri’s warm, soft skin under his fingertips. It would be weird to take them off now, so he contented himself with running his fingers up and down Yuuri’s back, absently feeling the notches of his spine and breathing in the scent that was nothing but Yuuri. The faint smell of ice still lingered despite the quick shower he’d taken in the locker room, his body wash (Victor learned that Yuuri didn’t have a particular brand he liked, just whatever was there) and something like… green tea? Maybe? It didn’t really matter what it was, because put together it was all Yuuri. _His_ Yuuri. 

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice was muffled against Victor’s chest, though he made no move to pull away. “Are you okay?” Victor blinked, his hands slowed, the fingers of his right hand slotted into the dips of Yuuri’s spine. He nodded. Yuuri cleared his throat and continued, Victor could almost hear the flush in his voice. “You’re giving me goosebumps.” 

A moment of silence as Victor considered Yuuri’s words before the two of them burst into laughter, Victor apologizing between his wheezing breaths. It wasn’t even that funny, but as they broke down into giggles every time they caught each other’s eye, they continued laughing for far longer than they normally would. Victor couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that, so carefree and light, and enough that tears had formed in the corners of his eyes. Yuuri somehow managed to get dressed in between their fits of laughter and the two of them left the rink with their arms looped together, the air considerably lighter than it had been in days. 

▲▽▲

Sometimes it was easy for Victor to forget how strong Yuuri was. Apart from being able to hold himself and another grown man up on a stripper pole with just the strength of his arms (Victor would forever be jealous of Chris), he helped around at the Inn often enough. Carrying stacks and crates of food and liquor with ease, his parents and sister always eager to push the heavy lifting to him. 

Mari caught Victor staring a few times while Yuuri worked, Victor’s offers to help brushed off. With her cigarette dangling between her smirk with amusement in her dark eyes, she would release a single huff of laughter into her hand as she withdrew her cigarette and blew out the smoke. The Katsuki siblings were so similar, yet couldn’t be more different. Yuuri wore his emotions on his sleeve, as much as he might like to think he didn’t. Everything he was feeling was revealed in his eyes, while Mari remained an enigma. They both took things into consideration, Yuuri looking at someone as though he was trying to figure out the most polite way to answer, while Mari tended to look at people as though she was trying to decide if she wanted to eat them or fight them. Usually she just walked away. 

“Careful,” she warned one day, cupping her hand around her light as Yuuri carried crates of sake from the van to the kitchen, effortlessly. She waited for Victor’s eyebrow to raise in question before she answered in the same flat tone that Yuuri sometimes took up. “If you get any thirstier, we won’t have enough drinks left for the other guests.” 

Victor snapped his mouth shut with a click, laughing at his own pain. So he was that obvious, huh? 

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Mari answered his unspoken question, pocketing her lighter. With great pride she watched her younger brother, he caught her gaze and waved at the two of them before grabbing the last crate. He balanced it on his hip, muscles flexing as he held it with one arm and closed the van with his free hand. “He’s had a crush on you since I can remember. I’m sure he hasn’t hidden it well.” 

“He’s not exactly subtle.” Victor supplied. 

“And neither are you.” Mari blew her smoke to the side, though Victor still caught a whiff. He didn’t smoke, not unless he was very, very, _very_ drunk but he had a sudden craving for it. Or maybe he only craved it to hide the other want that was eating him up inside. “The two of you are ridiculous.” She continued. “Every time you look at each other, your pupils blow up like you’ve just snorted a bunch of coke.” 

“What a strange way to put it.” Victor mused, earning a laugh from the elder Katsuki sibling. 

“But not incorrect.” She assured him, ashing her cigarette as Yuuri approached. “Hey, my laundry is in the dryer. You can do yours whenever.” She turned to leave, though not before looking to Victor and pressing one finger to her nose and making a quick inhaling noise, as if sucking something up her nostril. 

Yuuri didn’t seem to notice, his face hidden beneath the hem of his shirt as he lifted it to wipe the sweat from his face. Abs revealed, Victor could hardly formulate a response to Mari as his gaze was glued to Yuuri’s exposed skin. He wanted to reach out, Yuuri had grown more accustomed to touch - he could just lean on him, rest over his shoulder like he usually did… 

“Victor, do you want me to put your laundry in with mine? I don’t have too much and we have industrial sized washers for the inn.” Yuuri’s face reappeared, nose and cheeks pink from the exertion of moving all the supplies. 

“You want to do my laundry?” It was so domestic that Victor could cry. 

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri shrugged. “Like I said we have the big washers…” 

“That would be nice, Yuuri. Thank you.” Victor felt a smile bloom across his features. “I can bring it to the laundry room-” 

“Oh, no it’s okay. I can grab it when I grab mine.” Yuuri assured him, disappearing into the inn and up the stairs. 

Victor stared after him, dreamily. The tiniest taste of domesticity had him weak in the knees, a want clawing at his chest and belly, a need for more of it. Something he had never really known himself to want, but now it was all he could think of. He sat in the front room, there was something on tv, a football game, maybe? He wasn’t perceiving it , only absently following the colorful shapes of the players as they skittered across the large screen. 

There was bit of scuffling in the hallway, Victor turned to see Yuuri navigating the two laundry baskets before disappearing into the back. He vaguely wondered if Yuuri grabbed the pajama pants that had been tangled in his sheets (kicked off in the night) and realizes that no, he probably hadn’t. If it wasn’t his favorite pair, he wouldn’t be concerned, but he wasn’t sure what the laundry schedule was at Yu-Topia and didn’t want to interfere with any of the Katsuki’s routines. Light on his feet he scurried up the stairs, ripped back the sheets and grabbed the fleece pants before bouncing down to where he knew Yuuri was most likely still tossing clothes into the machine. 

“Yuuri~,” Victor called as he threw the door open, surprised to find that Yuuri had stripped off his own clothes and was wearing one of the inn’s yukata sets. The green shorts hugged his hips and the top hung from his shoulders as though he had just tugged it on and carelessly left it open. He had an armful of clothes that he had just tossed into the washer when Victor flung open the door and in his surprise, Yuuri shrieked. 

“V-Victor!” Yuuri had pulled his arms in close to his chest, an instinctive reaction, eyes wide as he took a deep breath. “You s-startled me!” 

Victor however, was speechless. With his mouth hanging open he held out the pajama pants to his student, blinking several times as if he couldn’t believe it. Actually, he really, genuinely couldn’t believe it. 

Yuuri Katsuki had his nipples pierced. 

Nothing but a simple silver bar through each of the pert, pink nubs, but Victor felt himself twitch in his pants. He wanted to touch them. He cleared his throat. “Yuuri. You-” 

“Shh!!” Yuuri grabbed the pants and shoved them carelessly in the wash with the rest of the laundry. If Victor hadn’t been so hyper focused he would have protested such rough treatment of his poor clothes. His long fingers encircled Victor’s wrist, tugging the older man along behind him until they reached Victor’s room. Yuuri checked both sides of the hallway before closing the door and turning to Victor. “My parents don’t know. They’d be.. upset.” Carefully he straightened his yukata, smoothing it down his chest. His face was burning, but he continued. “I went out in Detroit one night with Phichit, after a couple drinks the neon sign in the window sort of drew me in. I’d just had a really bad practice earlier that day, I was feeling reckless. I almost got a tattoo, but I wanted something less….” Yuuri waved a hand, searching for the right word. 

“Permanent?” Victor supplied. 

“Yes, less permanent,” Yuuri continued. His confidence faltered then, eyes cast to the side. “And I didn’t want to have anything that would show in competition. Phichit suggested it as a joke, I think, then I just… did it. I think the only people that know are Phichit and Mari. I called her the next morning in a panic, she laughed and told me she did worse at my age.” Victor wondered vaguely what Mari was like in her early twenties, though he couldn’t focus on anything other than Yuuri for too long. “I could take them out any time-” 

“Don’t.” Victor breathed, surprising even himself. 

“Wha-” 

“I like them.” Victor wasn’t aware that piercings were something he _liked_ , but maybe it was less about the piercing and more about Yuuri. His Yuuri was always surprising him. “Can I see them?” 

“S-sure.” Yuuri stuttered, though his movements were smooth as he removed the yukata. 

“Oh, wow!” Victor couldn’t deny that something about them just seemed to fit. So similar to the secret Eros that Yuuri contained, a special part of himself that he only showed on rare occasions or to those he trusted. Without thinking, acting much like his arms were on strings drawing him closer to Yuuri, Victor pressed his palms flat against Yuuri’s pecs, then swiped his thumbs over the small metal bars. He was transfixed, watching and feeling the metal under his thumb mixed with the heat of Yuuri’s flesh. He resisted the urge to lean forward and lick the hardened peaks, he couldn’t help but wonder what the metal might taste like in his mouth. 

“V-Victor.” Yuuri sounded breathless, it panicked Victor for a moment before he realized. Instantly he withdrew his hands and shifted his gaze to Yuuri’s face, which was flushed. His eyes had darkened with something (lust? oh god was it lust? ) and his breaths were shallow. “You can’t just _do_ that.” 

But god he wanted to. He wanted to do that and so much more. 

“Yuuri, I-” 

Hiroko’s voice carried up the stairs, calling for them to come down for lunch and Yuuri doubled over, sucking down air in an attempt to calm himself. Instantly Victor was on a knee, hand resting on Yuuri’s shoulder. He hoped he hadn’t pushed him into a panic attack. But now that he could see Yuuri’s face, it wasn’t scrunched up in agony and showed no signs of tears. Instead, his lips were curved into a tiny grin, eyes closed as he counted each breath. “I’m okay,” he assured Victor. After another breath he straightened up, fixing his yukata. “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Victor assured him with a wink. “It’ll be our little secret.” As they wandered towards the dining room he absently wondered how many other surprises his Yuuri had in store for this season. Selfishly, Victor didn’t want to share this new part of his Yuuri with anyone. He wanted it hidden and reserved just for him, something to think about when he couldn’t sleep. But then again, they were very Eros and it would be a shame to hide them. 

▲▽▲

“Victor,” Yuuri groaned. “ **Stop** picking out costumes with sheer tops.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway yeah Yuuri seems like the right kind of drunk person to go stick holes in his nips and Phichit doesn't seem like he would stop him. He probably documented the whole thing, including Yuuri's reaction the next morning. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @winryrockbae for shitposting, writing commission info and other things!


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